


We'll Grow Old Together

by goth_on_ham



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9867248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: Ed is sad. The game isn’t as fun as it used to be and he is facing middle age filled with regrets at what could have been. Oswald, on the other hand, seems to have everything he ever wanted. Well, apart from Ed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be a few chapters long. It takes place ten years after 3x14. The title is from that song ‘This Old Love’ by Lior. Rating and tags may increase as I go along.

_Meeting at the Iceberg Lounge. Tonight at 8. Be there or be square.  
-J xxx_

Ed didn’t know why he was still staring at the note. It wouldn’t change. It wouldn’t suddenly say another location. It was already 7pm. He had to go. One didn’t simply reject an invitation from the Joker, even if the invitation was to a place you had been avoiding for the last ten years.

It hadn’t exactly been easy. The Iceberg Lounge had become a cornerstone of Gotham’s nightlife, and the nightlife of Gotham’s underworld. However, despite the criminality of some of its clientele, it retained a level of class that kept Gotham’s one percent coming back for more. Oswald… No, not Oswald, the Penguin, knew how to run a club.

He wasn’t Oswald to him now. He wasn’t his friend.

He was the Penguin. Dapper gangland kingpin and successful businessman, someone who mingled with both infamous criminals and high class socialites. 

The King of Gotham. 

No one dared challenge him for that title, not anymore. 

Ed looked at himself in the long mirror that stood against one of the walls of his bedroom. The walls were covered in newspaper clippings about his most daring and brilliant heists and schemes, a few blueprints and sketches for plans that he had yet to execute were pinned amongst the past successes. He smiled humourlessly at his reflection. He looked tired. 

He  _was_  tired.

Growing old was a depressing reality for Ed. As he grew into middle age, he began to become increasingly aware of his own mortality. However, it wasn’t just the impermanence of his flesh that had began to bother him, it was that of his mind. The longer he stayed in Gotham, the longer he remained in the company of costumed crazies, the more he worried about losing his mind. Either to age and senility, or to insanity.

He had even considered giving it all up. Reforming. Starting afresh as a private detective. He’d be good at that. 

The game wasn’t as fun as it had been ten years ago. It wasn’t as fun as it had been five years ago. Maybe he’d even leave Gotham. 

“But not tonight.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair and deciding that he  _definitely_  needed a shower. 

He showered and then dressed in his favourite green suit. He chose one of his many question mark patterned ties, and found that he was spending a longer time than usual getting ready. 

His mind drifted to what Oswald would wear.

He shook his head. He tried not to think about it.

Maybe Oswald wouldn’t even be there.

Just because it was at the Iceberg Lounge didn’t mean he would be present.

Ed shook his head again, more violently. No. Of course he would be there. But it didn’t matter. They had nothing to say to each other. Certainly nothing that could be discussed in front of Gotham’s most notorious criminals.

It was easy for Ed to put on his signature outfit and pretend that he was full of vim and thirst for the game. That he was still a major player. He could slip on manic energy like a mask, and no one cared to question it. The Riddler, suffering a crisis of confidence? Who would even consider such a ridiculous notion?

Who would care?

Ed had no illusions that he was popular amongst his fellow rogues. Truthfully, he was surprised that Joker had invited him to the meeting, but he supposed that the clown needed an audience and the bigger, the better.

—

“Eddie. You came. I’m touched.” Joker leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled of gunpowder and expensive cologne. His lipstick stained his cheek. “See, Ivy? I told you he’d come.”

Ivy rolled her eyes and tsked, one of her hands flicking her thick red hair behind her shoulder. “I’m surprised he had the nerve to show his face here.”

Ed bristled at that, but then he remembered that Ivy was most likely not referring to his history with Oswald. “I see that you’re still holding a grudge over those rare plants I got my hands on. Finders keepers, Ivy.”

The plants had been an excellent diversion for his escape. It was a shame they had all been destroyed in the process. He’d never known a plant that screamed when burning before, but it had been quite terrifying.

“Watch it, Nygma. I’ve poisoned men for less than that.”

“Woah, woah. Save it for later, guys.” Joker cackled, sounding as if it pained him to have to break up the rising argument between them. Usually, he would have let it escalate. Whatever he had to say must be important. “We’ve got stuff to discuss, and I’d prefer if you were in one piece to listen to it.”  
  
Ed smirked, it was insincere but it riled Ivy up and that was enough to almost make it genuine.

“Now that Riddler’s here, we’re just waiting on our host. Where is Oswald anyway?” Jonathan was surly, his voice low and bitter. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he didn’t want to be present. Ed almost admired his honesty. 

“Oh dear, oh dear. I shall be too late.” Jervis murmured the words of the White Rabbit to himself as he clicked open his pocket watch and showed the time to Jonathan. “Our feathered friend is only seconds late.”

“ _Seconds_?” Joker gasped, in mock horror, his hands going up to either side of his face. “Minutes I could forgive, but seconds is too much! If I hadn’t been beaten to it, I’d break his leg!” 

“If you didn’t want him to be late, you shouldn’t have arranged to meet at his club. He will think he can show up whenever it suits  _him_.”

“Someone’s grumpy. What’s the matter, Johnny? Did I pull you away from your oh so groundbreaking ‘scientific’ research?’ The air quotes Joker put around the word ‘scientific’ seemed to irritate the former psychologist turned wanted criminal. “Keep your pants on, Ozzie’ll show up soon. Besides, it had to be here. They do the best cocktails in Gotham.”

Ed glanced over at the bar, wondering if a drink would be a good idea while they waited. He wasn’t in the habit of drinking to steady his nerves. His father had provided him with excellent motivation to be careful with alcohol, but this felt like a special case. The three young men he saw at the bar caused his train of thought to halt to a sudden stop.

They were gorgeous.

Ed found himself staring. He couldn’t help himself. Lord knows he tried to stop. He’d heard of the ‘three beauties’ who worked at the Iceberg Lounge, but they looked even more stunning in person than they did in photographs. He could tell which was which, and the realisation that he had remembered their names embarrassed him. 

Each of the men was dressed in a tuxedo, his hair slicked back and his posture perfect. Jay, the tallest of the three, was perched on a barstool and giggling sweetly at a joke that Lark was in the middle of telling. Lark had dark brown hair and wore glasses. He was slender and had high cheekbones. That was about as far as the resemblance between he and Ed went, but it had been enough to catch Ed’s attention when he had first seen a photograph of them in the Gotham Gazette a couple of years ago. Raven stood beside Lark, not laughing, but smiling silently. His hair was jet black and he was a little more muscular than the other two, his jaw was square and his eyes were piercing, even when he smiled.

“Ah! There’s the old bird!” Joker exclaimed, his voice shrill and intrustive.

His eyes went to the same door that he had came through minutes before, but there was no sign of Oswald. Then, he heard the familiar sound of Oswald’s cane tapping against the ground as he walked.

Oswald stepped into the room from the door that led to the kitchens and when he finally saw him, Ed felt the air leave his lungs and his heart seemed to cease beating. 

Oswald.

The Penguin.

His best friend.

The only man he had ever _really_  counted as a friend, even now. 

He was wearing a monocle. His limp had gotten worse. There were a few strands of white in his dark hair, and he still used too much product in it. He was wearing a tie that had a purple brocade and it brought out his eyes. He looked wonderful. Age suited him.

“Ozzie! So good of you to _finally_  join us!” Joker stood up and sauntered over to Oswald, he slapped him hard on the arm and Ed flinched despite himself. Oswald didn’t, he actually laughed. “What kind of host are you, keeping your guests waiting?”

“My apologies.” Oswald smiled. He signalled with a white gloved hand and as quick as a flash, the three young men beside the bar came over with drinks on silver trays. 

“You’re lucky I like you, Ozzie.” The clown chuckled, without a trace of malice, despite the threat that could easily be hiding behind those words. He took a glass and flung its contents down his throat in a single swallow.

Lark offered the drinks on his silver tray to Ed and the people he was sitting beside. Jonathan and Jervis took one, so Ed felt that he had to. When he did, he glanced up at Lark, and he observed a twitch at the side of the young man’s mouth. He made no cutting remark and it wasn’t anything as extreme as a scowl, but it was noticeable. And understandable. Of course, Oswald must have told his three new confidants all about him. About what he’d done.

He was suddenly very thirsty. But he also didn’t want the drink. It would have been better if he hadn’t come. 

Ten years ago he had felt a righteous burning anger at Oswald, he had thought he had deserved to die. More than that, he deserved to die at  _his_  hand. That feeling had disappeared as soon as he had pulled the trigger. The sight of Oswald sinking into the murky depths of the cold, unforgiving water had haunted his dreams ever since. Oswald had lurked in his waking hours as well. Wet and shivering and pale as death, with water and declarations of love pouring from his blue lips. He would sidle up beside him, try to reach out and touch him, but his hands never quite reached him.

The visions of this drowned spectre had ebbed away once Ed had heard Oswald was alive, but the nightmares still came to visit him from time to time.

—

Ed left the meeting still convinced he shouldn’t have went. His presence hadn’t been important. It had mostly consisted of Joker monologuing. If Ed had been asked to sum up what had been discussed, he would have seriously struggled to recount even a sentence or two of content that any sane person would understand. That was, apart from on one topic…

“Is it just me, or is there some  _weird_  tension here just now?” Joker asked. He sounded rather delighted at the prospect.

No one answered, so the clown answered for them.

“Oh! I know!” He clapped his hands together and pointed at Ed. Then he pointed at Oswald. “It’s you two!”

Ed felt his eyes widen slightly and his fingers curled a little tighter around the head of his cane. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that Oswald’s smile had grown tight and uncomfortable, but he remained polite. 

“Nonsense.” Oswald replied, but his answer didn’t convince their interrogator. 

Joker propped his chin up with his hands and raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh really?”

“Why should there be tension between us? We’ve not spoken a word to each other all evening.”

“But there’s history between you two, yes?” Joker leaned forwards in his chair, a keen look on his face. 

“Ancient history. I assure you.”

Even then, Oswald didn’t look at him, and Ed was surprised by how much that stung. But it stung even more when Lark ran a hand up Oswald’s arm then gently squeezed his shoulder. Oswald’s smile relaxed slightly, and he patted the back of Lark’s hand.

Oswald had truly moved on.

He was happy. He was successful. He was _loved_.

Then, Ed was struck by the image of Oswald sinking into icy cold water with blood pouring out from his abdomen, clouding the image in a dark fog. It played over and over in Ed’s mind, but this time, it felt like he was the one who was drowning.

—

That night, Ed dreamed of Oswald. 

But it wasn’t his usual nightmare. 

His hands weren’t wet and icy, they were soft, alive. They ran up and down his body, warming him. Oswald’s lips kissed his own and Ed could have cried from the gentleness. 

“I missed you.” He murmured, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had said something so very true. He hadn’t fully realised how lonely he was until he had seen his old friend again. 

“We’ve been apart for too long, my love.” Oswald’s voice was soft and sad, but it was forgiving. It trembled slightly with longing. Oswald still wanted him. Even after everything.

Ed pressed his lips to Oswald’s, his hands running over the gentle curve of his slender back. The skin was so warm. So soft. But then, suddenly, it was cold.

Deathly cold.

Water began to flood from Oswald’s lips into his own and Ed screamed, screamed until he woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Female versions of Jay, Lark and Raven exist, but I listed them as OCs since I pretty much just made up their personalities and just borrowed their names from the pre-existing characters.

“Well, that was _interesting._ ”

Oswald let out a long sigh. He had to admit that seeing Ed again had brought back more old memories than he cared to admit. Years ago, Ed had called him a sentimentalist. He had been right.

He’d thought of tracking him down, confronting him. Of course he had. But he'd been a coward. He’d left it too late. He had been afraid of what seeing him again would do to him and the longer he had put it off, the more afraid he had become. He didn’t trust himself to stay angry, and he _needed_ to stay angry. It was either that or…

“Oswald?” Lark pressed gently on his shoulder and looked down at him with kind, deep brown eyes. 

Oswald felt like slapping himself for thinking of Ed when he looked up at him.

“Hm?”

Yes, it wasn’t fair on the boy. Despite some superficial similarities, he was very different from Ed. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he certainly wouldn’t hurt Oswald.

“Are you okay? Seeing him again… Even after all this time, I know you still care about him a lot.” Lark’s eyes moved away from Oswald’s, and he went over to the bar to pour his boss a drink. He knew that he’d want one.

“I do? I had rather thought I’d moved on from all of that nonsense.” Oswald didn’t even fool himself with that. Lark had told him that he often talked about Ed when he got drunk. More than once, he’d ended up confessed to Lark that was why he’d hired him in the first place. Because he looked a bit like him. But kinder. Oswald didn’t like that he’d done that. Lark shouldn’t have had to hear him say things like that. He knew how that would feel. He knew that it hurt. He knew from when Ed would talk about Isabella. His insensitivity proved to him that he didn’t deserve someone as good as Lark. He didn’t trust himself to treat him as he deserved.

“Oswald.” Lark set a full glass in front of the older man with a soft breath of exasperation passing his lips. He shook his head. “I’ve told you how I feel.”

Just over a year ago, Lark had told him he loved him. He had more courage for that than Oswald ever had.

Oswald hadn’t believed it at first. 

He’d thought it was a joke. Or that he’d misjudged things and Lark was a gold digger. But he wasn’t _quite_ old enough for handsome young men to try marrying him for his money yet. They’d have to put up with him for too long to justify it.

He hadn’t allowed Lark to love him. He couldn’t. It made him feel like a fool, but that cliché expression ‘I’m afraid of being hurt again’ had passed through his mind when Lark had offered his heart to him. They had settled, somewhat unhappily, for friendship and Oswald tried not to notice the pain in the younger man’s face whenever he got drunk and talked too much about Ed.

“But that man still has a hold on you. I could see it in your eyes. Even if you didn’t look at him, you wanted to.” 

Oswald opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again soon after. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t deny that. On top of the ugly scar that marked his abdomen, Ed had left another mark on him that would never fade. 

“Let’s not talk about it any more.” Oswald remarked, failing spectacularly at sounding carefree. “It’s over now. I doubt he’ll come back any time soon.”

He finally put his hand on the glass that Lark had set in front of him, but then frowned in confusion when he saw the clear liquid that filled it. 

“You drink too much.” Lark reminded him, folding his arms across his chest and giving the older man a look that was so disapproving that it almost made Oswald blush. “I don’t want you getting drunk again and getting crazy ideas about going to speak to him.”

“You’re not my mother.” Oswald huffed, pointedly not drinking the boring beverage. 

“No,” Lark agreed, his face growing soft again, “But someone needs to look after you.”

—

Oswald normally slept better after a few glasses of wine, but Lark had insisted against it, so he went to bed that night with an unusually clear head. 

He had a lot of dreams. All of the ones he could remember had Ed in them. 

Some were just memories. Others were more… Intimate.

He woke up at five o’clock in the morning, having been startled into consciousness by one particularly _colourful_ dream. He groaned in frustration at how hopelessly aroused he was. With his mind still half fogged over with sleep, he reached beneath the bedsheets and his silk pyjama bottoms for his cock. He stroked it clumsily, his breath growing heavy and desperate with just a few tugs, then his body shuddered with release after a few more. 

He sat up and wiped his hand on a piece of tissue paper then lay back down. He tried to pretend that he could go back to sleep after that, but it was hopeless.

Ed was still on his mind. 

As always.

—

“Good morning, sir.” Raven was brewing his breakfast tea when Oswald came downstairs a few hours after waking up and masturbating and trying and failing to go back to sleep. If he looked tired, Raven had the good manners not to mention it.

Raven was the only one out of the three who still called him ‘sir’. Oswald had told him he didn’t have to, but Raven had kept doing it anyway.

“Mmh.” He took his usual seat at the head of the long dining table and rubbed his eyes for a few seconds before noticing that he was missing one of his usual breakfast companions. “Lark isn’t here?”

“He had some errands to run.” Jay replied, reading the newspaper and getting butter on the sides of the pages. Table manners and neatness didn’t come as naturally to him as it did the others. Oswald didn’t mind so much as long as he was more careful during working hours. 

“He said that he’d be back before lunch.” Raven added, with a slight tsk in Jay’s direction. He minded more than Oswald did that Jay could be messy. That was part of the reason Oswald didn’t bother expending energy to correct him, Raven tended to do that anyway. 

“I see.” Oswald began to look at the mail that Raven had set in front of him along with his tea. He cut the first envelope open with an absurdly expensive silver letter opener, then he froze in horror at the contents inside. His eyes grew wide and he clutched the sides of the paper so tightly that it looked like he might just start tearing it into pieces. 

“Oswald?” Jay put down his newspaper and glanced nervously between Oswald and Raven. “What is it? What does it say?”

Oswald opened his mouth, no sound coming from it. Although he could think of a multitude of words he _wanted_ to say. All of which were short and foul and banned before the watershed. 

He didn’t get a chance to say any of them before the phone rang.

Raven automatically turned to get it, but Oswald ran over instead. He ignored how badly his leg cried out in protest at the sudden, violent movement and how undignified he must look. He picked up the receiver. 

“Where are they?!” He spat into the phone. He didn’t even wait to hear who was on the other end. 

“Warehouse 5B at the docks. Come alone.” An obviously disguised voice said in response to his vitriolic demand. “And come quickly unless you want the little birdie to get his wings broken.”

They hung up. 

Oswald’s hands were shaking. The words that had been cut out from magazines and newspapers and stuck onto the letter burned in his mind. 

_We have your boyfriend, and the other one._  
_But which one is which? You’ll decide today.  
_ _-A friend xxx_

“Who was that?” Jay asked, even more nervous now, but Oswald didn’t even hear him. “Should we call your men? Is something wrong?”

He tried to reach for his boss, tried to press for a response, but the shorter man shoved past him with surprising force and grabbed the cane that he had propped against the dining table. He rushed out of the room, moving more quickly than he had for years.

He got into his car and started up the engine. He had no time to wait for a driver. He had to go alone, he would not risk their safety by taking someone with him, even if it was just to drive the car. He drove as fast as he could without attracting police attention, still reeling from the contents of the letter and what the scrambled voice on the telephone had said to him.

Lark needed him.

Ed needed him.

And unless he thought of something _very_ quickly, he was going to be made to choose which one to save.


	3. Chapter 3

Oswald had been right, Lark wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

A snake on the other hand… That was a different story.

He’d seen how Oswald had looked when they’d talked about Ed, and he was afraid of what it meant. He was afraid that Oswald would do something stupid in the name of love. He didn’t trust Ed not to hurt him again. Perhaps he should have had more faith in his boss, but he knew what kind of man he was. He knew that in matters of the heart, he often forgot to listen to his head.

He buttoned up his jacket to keep out the cold morning weather and shoved his hands into his pockets. His right hand gripped a gun. 

—

Ed was doing a crossword when he heard the knock at the door. He put down his pencil and walked over, instinctively grabbing his cane in case the visitor was an unfriendly one.

Although, he had learned from experience that most of his ‘unfriendly’ visitors tended to kick down his door rather than knock it politely.

He peered through the peephole and saw that it was one of Oswald’s boys. The one who had ran his hand up Oswald’s arm with all the intimacy of a lover. 

His first instinct was to ignore him, but curiosity kicked away his common sense.

Perhaps Oswald had sent him. Perhaps he wanted to talk to him. 

Perhaps there was hope for them.

Ed shook his head, trying to dispel those foolishly optimistic thoughts. He knew that he was getting carried away, but all the same, his curiosity remained. So he unlocked the door. 

“Hello again. Did I leave something at the club?” Ed smiled his perfectly practised, self-assured smile. The younger man didn’t smile back. That was okay, Ed didn’t expect him to. He didn’t really want him to. 

He wondered how long he had been with Oswald. If Oswald had chosen him for a lover because of their superficial resemblance, or if he merely had a ‘type’ and both he and Lark had met the criteria. His thoughts were more bitter this morning. Oswald not talking to him, not even _looking_  at him, had hurt his feelings. 

“No, I’m just here to pass on a message.” 

“A message?” Ed took a few steps away from the door to put his cane back down. Later, he would think that had been foolish, but he didn’t think he was in any danger from Lark. After all, Oswald might not love him anymore, but he didn’t believe he would hurt him. If he had wanted to do that, he already would have. 

“Yes.” He had his back to the young man when he heard him click the door shut and breathe in shakily through his nostrils. There was the ruffle of fabric. Ed became worried, he turned around sharply and he saw a gun in Lark’s hand. 

“What is this?” His eyes became wide. Had he miscalculated? Did Oswald really want him dead? His mind instantly filled with a confused flood of questions. However, none of them seemed to make it past his lips.

“I can’t let you ruin Oswald’s life again.” Lark explained, his hand shaking, but not as much as his voice was. Ed could tell that he hadn’t killed before. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

There was a loud crash and Ed flinched, but the searing pain he’d expected didn’t come. He hadn’t been shot. He hadn’t-

“Ah!” A sack was shoved over his head as soon as he opened his eyes and two pairs of strong, thick hands grabbed him and  _then_ , there was pain. A blow to the back of his head. He could hear Lark crying out in panic and a cacophony of voices telling him to shut up. Then he lost consciousness.

—

“So, Mickey, explain to me again why there’s  _two_  of them?” 

Ed woke up to the sound of the Joker’s voice, high and shrill and demanding answers. He slowly opened his eyes, just enough to see, but hopefully narrow enough that he could be mistaken for still being unconscious. 

He had been taken to a warehouse. Kidnapped. His pride stung at that. He was a prominent member of Gotham’s underworld, he shouldn’t be getting kidnapped.

Joker was addressing a burly man who was rubbing the back of his neck and looking a little embarrassed. His face was smeared with ill-fitting clown makeup. “Well you said a tall guy with dark hair and glasses. There were two of those at the address. We wanted to make sure we got the right one.”

That stung his pride even more. 

The Joker clearly needed to start hiring henchmen who could see properly. That he, the Riddler, could be mistaken for any tall guy with dark hair and glasses was incredibly insulting. His picture had been in the paper numerous times, and he had probably even met this goon before in his dealings with Joker.

“Ugh…” Joker groaned and ran a hand over his face. For several seconds he just groaned and growled and Ed thought that Mickey was a dead man. He had no sympathy for him. He deserved it for making such an idiotic mistake. But instead of killing him, Joker started laughing. His bad mood instantly disappeared and he patted Mickey on the side of his face playfully “That’s funny. You really can’t tell which one of these is the Riddler ?”

“Nope.” Mickey admitted, smiling cautiously. Ed wanted to strangle him.

The Joker’s laughter became louder and it woke Lark up. 

Like Ed, he had been knocked unconscious. He was sitting about ten feet away from him on the floor, his wrists and ankles manacled with the same chains as Ed’s were.

Unlike Ed, he didn’t pretend to remain asleep. He let out a fearful whimper and their captors heard it. “Ooh, our guests are awake.”

He walked over so that he was standing in front of them both and clasped his hands behind his back, bouncing slightly on his heels.

He smirked right at Ed and despite himself, Ed felt his blood run cold. He opened his eyes properly, sensing that his time pretending to be asleep was over.

“That’s better.” He cooed, and Ed’s skin crawled at the false affection in his voice. “Now, how are you boys feeling? Dazed? Confused?”

He looked between the two of them, and Ed could see from the corner of his eye that Lark was terrified. He might work for the infamous Penguin, but he probably had little to no involvement in the criminal side of his boss’ dealings. 

“I demand to know the reason for this, Joker!” Ed declared, raising his voice and doing his upmost to keep it steady. “I thought you said yesterday that we rogues have to stick together!”

The clown snickered in a curious way, a way that suggested he was quite pleased with himself about some secret, and Ed didn’t like that. He disliked being in the dark at all, but being in the dark when the Joker was in the same room as you felt exceptionally dangerous. He was such a wildcard that really, to stand any chance, Ed knew that he had to have as much information at his disposal as possible. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Eddie.” Joker replied, a hand on his chest, his mouth open wide as if that remark had wounded him. “Believe me, you’ll be thanking me for this later.”

Somehow Ed doubted that. Being kidnapped, knocked out and chained up in a warehouse didn’t feel much like a gesture of friendship.

“Then why am I chained up?”

“Nosy, nosy.” Joker tsked and waggled a finger at him chidingly. Ed tried not to roll his eyes. “All will become clear in time.”

“Why am I here? I haven’t… I haven’t done anything.” It was Lark. 

Joker snorted in amusement. “Just a mistake, believe me.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But hey, I’m flexible. It might be more interesting this way. I mean, I’ll need to redo the note, but that’s not a problem.”

“What note?”

“Geez, Ed!” The Joker stood up straight and stomped one foot on the ground impatiently. “What did I just tell you? ‘All will be revealed in good time’! Quit it with all the questions or I’ll tape your mouth shut!”

Ed decided that pointing out that Joker had not quite said those words last time would be a bad idea.

“Now,” Joker became cheerful again instantly and signalled for Mickey to come forward. The large man handed his boss a gossip magazine, some glue, a pair of scissors, and a piece of paper. “I’ve got work to do. Why don’t you two chat amongst yourselves while I put the finishing touches to my brilliant scheme?” 

Ed looked and Lark, and Lark looked back at Ed. Neither of them seemed to feel much like having a friendly chat. However, they didn’t have any way of knowing how long they’d be kept for. There was nothing for them to do except talk. Mickey and Joker had walked all the way over to the opposite side of the warehouse so that Joker could finish what was probably some sort of ransom note. Ed had a pretty good idea who it would be addressed to.

“It’s lucky for me that they took you as well.” Ed remarked, thinking that he was being pretty kind in starting the conversation. The boy still seemed to be a mess of nerves and he would likely do better if he kept his mind active. Instead of just sitting their silently, worrying. “If they hadn’t, there’s no way Oswald would come for me.”

Lark stared at him silently for several seconds. Ed concluded that he must be wondering how he knew that Joker was sending for Oswald. The poor kid evidently wasn’t the brightest. 

“Who else would Joker be sending that note to?” He pointed out. “Oswald is the only one connected to us both.”

Still no response, but now Lark had lowered his eyes to the ground. Perhaps he was crying. He had no reason to. He, at least, was quite safe. 

Ed wasn’t naive enough to think that Joker would just hand them both back over to Oswald. He probably had some sort of absurd game planned. But Oswald would undoubtedly do everything in his power to save his boyfriend.

“You’re not as smart as Oswald says you are.” Lark mumbled, catching Ed by surprise. 

“What do you mean?” Ed challenged, quickly becoming defensive when his intelligence was questioned. 

“I’m the one whose lucky.”

Ed frowned. He didn’t understand.

“Oswald would never let you die. He’ll come for you.” 

Ed scoffed. That was ridiculous. Oswald hated him. If Joker had tried to get Oswald to come for just him, his old friend would have laughed in the clown’s face and told him to do as he pleased.

“He’s still in love with you, and I’m some annoying kid that he only hired because I look a little like you.”

Lark was crying. Ed could hear it in his voice.

“That’s preposterous.” The older man whispered, but the boy didn’t answer him. The two men didn’t say anything else until, hours later, the warehouse doors burst open and their saviour, Oswald Cobblepot, arrived.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little short but I felt like this was a suitable place to leave it before the last chapter.

When Oswald burst through the door, his eyes wild and desperate, Ed was forced to recall what had happened between them all those years ago. 

Oswald had came for him then as well. 

He hadn’t even been suspicious that it might be a trap, because he had trusted him. Because he had loved him.

Ed wondered if he had been suspicious this time.

“Oh God…” Oswald hurried forwards, seeming horrified by the sight of them both in chains. When he got close enough, he let himself fall onto his knees and he began rattling them. “Lark… Edward… I’ll get you out of here.”

Oswald might know how to pick a lock, but he wouldn’t have any supplies with him. He’d clearly rushed to be here. Ed could see the sweat on his brow. His hair wasn’t even styled into his usual fashion. He’d probably not even finished breakfast when he’d heard.

“Oswald.” Lark still had tears in his eyes but the presence of his lover seemed to comfort him. He looked at Oswald like one might a knight in shining armour. Ed recognised the look from when Oswald would talk about Jim Gordon, before he would catch himself and become embarrassed, then insist that was all in the past. 

“Damn,” Oswald seemed to be realising that the manacles would not be easily broken.

“Did you bring a gun?” Ed asked him, keeping his voice low. 

“Of course I did.” Oswald replied. Ed supposed that he shouldn’t have expected any differently. “Whoever did this won’t leave with their life.”

Ed could see Lark pale slightly. 

“Oswald, it’s too dangerous. You should leave before he gets back. Call the cops. It might put us at risk but if you try to shoot us out of here, we’ll all die.” Lark pleaded, reaching out and taking Oswald’s hands in his, as if to stop him from pumping the Joker full of lead the moment he walked back into the warehouse. Frankly, Ed thought Lark was being naive. Oswald wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t just start firing blindly. He had a better chance of getting them out of here than the police did.

“He?” Oswald asked, not moving his hands from Lark’s grasp but not seeming to listen to his suggestion.

A pained expression came over the younger man’s face and he let out a small noise of frustration. 

“Joker.” Ed clarified.

Oswald turned to face him, his expression darkening as he did. “Why would he do this?”

Ed understood his anger. He hadn’t seen Oswald for a long time, but he knew that he and the Joker were on good terms. Besides hosting the clown’s latest meeting, Oswald had always made an effort to be accommodating to him. Ed imagined that Oswald actually despised him, he had little tolerance for chaos, but he was polite. He was professional. He was _sensible._ He had probably been biting his tongue and resisting the urge to bark at him for years. 

Years of cordiality, all for nothing.  
  
“He doesn’t need a reason, does he?”

Ed could see that Oswald knew that was true, but it didn’t make the news any easier to stomach. Besides the betrayal, Joker was dangerous. It wasn’t just his bloodthirsty nature, he was capricious. That made him hard to reason with. If he was behind this, Oswald could work out that this was more than a simple kidnapping. 

The door to the warehouse swung open, the same one that Oswald had used just a few minutes previously, and Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime made his entrance with a flourish and a bow. 

“Ozzie! So glad you could make it.”

Oswald spun around to face him, his hands clenching into fists at his side. That brutish looking henchman Mickey was pointing a gun at him. Ed hoped that Oswald was a quickdraw.

“What’s the meaning of this, Joker? Why would you do this? I’ve always been-“

“I’m not doubting your loyalty, Ozzie. Although, I’m actually a bit _hurt_ that you turn on me so quickly.” He put a hand on his chest, as if the piece of shrivelled up coal inside his chest was aching. Ed didn’t find it a convincing act, and he was sure that Oswald didn’t either.

Oswald said nothing to that. His entire body was tense. Ed glanced over to Lark, his eyes were fixed on Oswald, his lips moving ever so slightly. He couldn’t hear any words coming from him, but if Ed was to guess, he thought that he might be silently pleading with Oswald not to get himself killed. 

“Let me explain,” Joker sauntered past Oswald, brushing past him as if he was no more important or threatening to him than any average schmo in Gotham. “Those chains around these two fellas aren’t your ordinary BDSM affair. They’re electrified.”

“Electrified?” 

“You getting hard of hearing in your old age, Eddie?” 

Ed narrowed his eyes, not appreciating the jibe. His eyesight had gotten worse, he had lost weight, and he was beginning to worry that his hairline was receding, but his hearing was perfectly fine. Besides, he wasn’t even forty-five. He wasn’t really _old_ yet. He was just firmly in the middle of middle age. 

“Yeah, they’re electrified.” Joker continued, chuckling slightly. He pulled out a rectangular control pad from his breast pocket and extended its long metal antenna. Then, he pointed it at Lark, then Ed, then Lark again. Then he handed it to Oswald. “Choose one to zap. Just point it right at him, and he’ll be fried like a churro.”

“Why would I do that?!”

Ed knew the answer before Joker said it.

“Because it’s that or I kill them both.” 

Ed swallowed deeply. He supposed that he didn’t need to worry about his receding hairline anymore. 

“How do I know you won’t kill them both anyway?”

“I suppose you don’t. But it’d be nice if you could trust me.”

“After you’ve _kidnapped_ Lark and Edward?!”  
  
“Hey now. Keep your cool, birdie. You don’t want to do anything rash.” Joker’s voice lowered, becoming rougher, huskier. “If Mickey’s forced to shoot you, then neither of your beaus will get out of here alive.”

Oswald quietened. His shoulders slackened. Ed braced himself, because he was certain of who Oswald would choose to electrocute.

“Oswald.”

It was Lark. 

“Please. Kill me.” 

Oswald turned around, his face ghostly pale at the horror of this situation. “Lark, don’t be ridiculous. We both know that I would never-“

“You don’t have a choice. If you don’t do as he says, all three of us will die.” 

“This kid’s a smart cookie.” Joker remarked, apparently quite enjoying the little drama that was playing out in front of him. “Go on then, why don’t you tell Ozzie why he should zap you and not Eddie?”

Lark lowered his eyes to the ground. This time, it was him who went silent. Ed didn’t understand. 

Why would Oswald’s boyfriend offer his own life up in exchange for his?

Why would he think that Oswald would accept that?

“He knows why.” Lark finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

—

“You look so like him.” Oswald’s hand rested on his cheek, and for a moment, Lark deluded himself into thinking that he might kiss him. 

He didn’t.

He drew his hand away again and finished his glass of wine in one long swallow. 

Lark wiped his eyes while Oswald was looking away and tried to steady his voice. 

“Is that the only reason you hired me?” He asked, trying to make it sound like a joke, rather than an accusation.

“It’s not the only reason.” Oswald replied, filling up his glass again, his hand shaking slightly as he did.

Lark’s heart ached inside of his chest. He tried to tell himself that Oswald was drunk. That he didn’t mean for his words to come across so tactlessly, so _cruelly._ He was probably just being oversensitive anyway.

“You should stop drinking so much.” He said with a slight sniff, he hoped that it wasn’t too obvious how close he was to tears.

“You remind me of my mother too.” Oswald added, as if he hadn’t heard what Lark had just said. 

Lark paused. 

So that’s all he was. Just a replacement for the people Oswald had already lost.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this story. I hope you like the final chapter.

“The clock’s ticking, Ozzie.” Joker remarked, with a whine.

Oswald was wearing dark purple gloves and the leather squeaked slightly as his hand curled tightly around the metal remote control. Ed could see the tightness of his body, the shine of his pale eyes, and he swore he could hear his heart beat too.

Any second now, Oswald would press that button, and he would kill him.

Joker began clicking his tongue so it mimicked the sound of a clock. “We don’t have all day. I’m a busy man.”

Why hadn’t Oswald killed him yet? 

He couldn’t seriously be considering choosing him over Lark. 

Lark had seemed to think that would be Oswald’s choice, but the boy was clearly deluded. Oswald wouldn’t spare him, the man who had once ‘killed’ him, over this devoted and sweet and _younger_ man.

Lark was sniffling, shaking. Like he was afraid he was really the one who was about to die.

“I can’t do it.” Oswald said, after what felt like minutes. The kingpin of Gotham’s underworld turned to the Joker. “I won’t do it.” 

Ed couldn’t see his face, but the determination in his old friend’s voice sent a shiver up his spine. Oswald could sound very soft, very pliant, and his voice typically had a somewhat nasally, somewhat effete manner to it. However, when it was called for, he could also sound wonderfully authoritative. 

“I’ll kill them both if you don’t.”

“Do it if you dare.” Oswald pushed the remote control into the clown’s hands. “But if you do, I will come after you with everything that I’ve got.”

The Joker raised an eyebrow, but he kept himself from laughing. “Big words for a little bird.” 

“This ‘little bird’ was running Gotham when you were still acting as Galavan’s patsy.” Oswald reminded him, straightening his back and puffing out his chest. “You do not want to make an enemy of me, _Jerome_.”

“Geez, no need to get so touchy. You know, I’ve slit people’s throats for speaking to me like that.” Oswald didn’t move an inch and the Joker let out an amused snort.

“Fine.” 

Ed was sure that everyone in the room, besides the Joker, felt surprise at that. They were being let go?

“The remote’s a fake anyway.” 

It was tossed aside, it bounced off the floor, and the button was pushed down, but nothing happened. 

“I just wanted to see which one you’d pick.”

Had it really all been a joke?

“Let them go, Mickey.”

Ed was still stunned when that large, dumb, brute of a henchman unshackled him. He stood up and rubbed the soreness from his wrists, watching as Joker patted Oswald on the shoulder and said something in his ear that he couldn’t quite pick up. Oswald smiled and nodded. He had threatened his life a minute ago, but he was being cordial again. Oswald never ceased to amaze him.

—

Oswald drove back to the Iceberg Lounge first. He asked Ed if that was alright. Ed hadn’t expected a lift, he hadn’t even expected to be alive, so he just nodded. He had barely said a word since the warehouse. 

He waited in the car as Oswald dropped off Lark. Raven and Jay were waiting at the door for him. Lark clung to Oswald and kissed him on the cheek. Oswald didn’t return the kiss, but he held the younger man tightly, rubbing a hand over his back.  When Oswald got back into the car and asked Ed for his address, Ed answered while watching Lark be embraced by Jay and then Raven.

—

“This reminds me of your old apartment.” Oswald was looking over the newspaper clippings that Ed had pinned to his walls. Occasionally, he saw his hand reach out for a moment, like he wanted to touch something, but he stopped himself every time. 

Ed was sitting on the couch. He felt like there should be so much to say, so much to ask, but the words escaped him. At the Iceberg Lounge, he had been hurt that Oswald hadn’t spoken to him, but now that he was, he didn’t know what to say. 

He was reminded of when Oswald would visit him in Arkham. He would talk and talk and talk, and Ed would say next to nothing. Yet, he would be there every week. Every week he would turn up and smile and talk and act as if he was genuinely happy to be in his miserable company.

“Do you still play?”

Ed blinked. He had become lost in his own thoughts. Oswald was pointing at the keyboard that stood in one corner of the room. It was gathering dust. Ed wasn’t even sure why he had bought it.

“Not for years.”

“Do you mind if I…”

“Go ahead.”

Oswald walked over to the cheap, plastic thing and brushed some of the dust off with his hands. The dust stuck to the palms of his gloves and Ed winced. He should have used the handkerchief that sat in his breast pocket. 

“Um.” Oswald’s fingers hovered over the buttons, then he pushed a couple experimentally. After the third one, the keyboard came to life with a short electronic jingle. “Ah.”

Oswald wasn’t as good as he was, but he could play nicely enough. However, it wouldn’t have surprised Ed if he had never touched an electronic keyboard before. 

Oswald played a song that he didn’t recognise, but he stopped halfway through when Ed pressed his face into his hands and begged him to stop.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.“ Oswald moved towards him, but Ed got up from the couch and retreated further away from him. He put his arms out to stop the other man from coming closer, even if it meant showing him his face, which had quickly become streaked with tears.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Ed asked, and if he hadn’t been so desperate for an answer, he would have cringed at how he sounded. He could hear the thickness of his voice, the quivers, the uncertainty.

“I could never-“

“Why?” He demanded. His voice grew louder. “Why couldn’t you?”

He couldn’t see Oswald properly now. Tears clouded his vision, but he could hear just fine. He could hear the softness of Oswald’s response. 

“You know why.”

Ed couldn’t believe that. There must be some other reason. Something he hadn’t thought of yet. Something he had missed. 

Or maybe Oswald really thought that he was telling the truth. But he couldn’t be. Not really. It wasn’t logical. It didn’t make sense.

“I _killed_ you, Oswald. You should want me dead. You should hate me.”

“Maybe, but I don’t.”

“Even after all this time?”

“Yes.” Oswald moved forwards, and Ed made a feeble attempt at pushing him away until Oswald took his hands in his and Ed couldn’t bring himself to try again. Taking that as permission, Oswald moved in a little closer, and Ed let go of his hands, wrapping his arms around Oswald instead. 

When they had embraced in the past, Oswald had always seemed like the one clinging to him. The smaller man would press against him, with his arms around him tightly, and he would rest his head on his chest. But this time it was different. This time, it felt like they were both clinging to each other. 

—

“Has there been anyone else?” 

“No. No one else. What about you?”

“A woman I hired to assist me in my work last year. It didn’t work out.”

“You didn’t…”

“I didn’t kill her. It just didn’t work out.”

Oswald smiled a little and ran a hand over his chest. Ed put his hand over Oswald’s and drew it up to his lips. 

As he kissed his knuckles, Oswald sighed softly, and Ed felt the man’s other hand go to his cock. 

“We just finished,” he chuckled, but it wasn’t a complaint. 

“We have a lot of time to make up for.” Oswald replied and the mischievous look in his eyes made Ed glad that they were about to make love again. 

Oswald had been so shy the first time. Ed didn’t have a wealth of experience either, but Oswald had less. It had been a somewhat clumsy, awkward attempt, but towards the end they had managed to become more comfortable with each other. 

He stopped kissing Oswald’s hand so he could kiss his lips instead, as he did, Oswald’s hand wrapped around his cock and began stroking. Ed moaned and his hands went to rest on the base of Oswald’s neck. He waited for permission, and when it was given, he rubbed his thumb over the sensitive skin of his throat and squeezed. Oswald gasped, his hand pausing for a moment, then it started to stroke again. 

Ever since Isabella, Ed had been too afraid to put his hands anywhere near his lovers’ throats. Oswald was different though. Oswald trusted him. Even after everything.

When they had finished for the second time that afternoon, Oswald collapsed with his face on Ed’s chest and he mumbled that he loved him. 

Ed ran his fingers through Oswald’s hair, raven black and occasional strands of white, and he replied with the same words. 

He regretted waiting so long to see him again, but there was nothing he could do to change the past. They had spent ten needless years apart from each other, but they would have many more together. Oswald’s hair would become completely white, and he would probably dye it out of vanity, and Ed would probably need stronger glasses, but it would be good, it would feel right. They’d grow old together.


End file.
